


don't make me call the stage manager

by toastedbagel



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Past Abuse, everyones alive and they're all friends except fucking Kalecgos, in which Jaina needs a nap And Sylvanas needs a hug, listen its a weird ballet au thing I don't write the rules, other than that this ones gonna be very light and fluffy like a good pancake, take a shot every time its abundantly clear I know more about music than dance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastedbagel/pseuds/toastedbagel
Summary: Sylvanas comes from a long line of excellent ballerinas, but she happens to be the best of them. Especially since her sisters quit. Music's been a little off lately, though, and she can't have that.Jaina was a prodigy, once. It's not like she's trying to stage some grand comeback or anything, but a paycheck is a paycheck and she loves the violin, even if she's in the pit. If only the prima would stop being so insufferable.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Rhonin/Vereesa Windrunner
Comments: 27
Kudos: 88





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> It's finals season I have the adhd and I cannot get this au out of my head time for another WIP :,)

Auditions were never the scary part for Jaina. 

Her own had gone alright enough. She played well (she always did, she  _ had  _ to), but it was hard not to get distracted by the nagging thought that all of it would have gone better on her old violin, low and soft and sweet. Her new one was more...temperamental, and played like it had salt baked into the wood, a hard and violent green like the sea. Still, it sounded decent on the except they’d given her, and she thought she could detect some level of approval in the voices of the panel behind the screen when she’d finished. 

They’d reached out a week later, telling her they would just love to have  _ Jaina Proudmoore  _ play for them, that she’d be a great addition to the orchestra. She bristled at the attempts to get at her ego, the references to her career. It would have worked, years ago- everyone knew about Jaina Proudmoore, youngest-ever concertmaster of the Dalaran Philharmonic at 17, and for that Jaina, this job would be a bit of a downgrade. It was a blind audition, so it wasn’t like she could leverage her reputation to get the position. Or, like she’d feared, have them turn her down because of it. Her rise to prominence had been meteoric, but her disappearance from the orchestra circuit had happened faster. Honestly, the speed at which they’d offered her the position was a little suspicious- things didn’t work that fast, especially not in Silvermoon, but Jaina had all but expened her emergency savings and rent was not cheap in this city, so she’d graciously accepted. 

But no, auditions weren’t the scary part of joining a new orchestra. That honor belonged to the first rehearsal. They could be trials by fire at best, not even including the fact that Jaina was alone in a new city, playing publicly for the first time in three and a half years, with an orchestra composed mostly of elves, who weren’t exactly known for their humility. It was that thought that made her linger at the door to the rehearsal space, nervously pulling at the collar of her black turtleneck.

She had made this choice on purpose, she reminded herself. Silvermoon was supposed to be a new start, as different and as far from Loaderon as she could reasonably get and still find symphony work. She’d picked ballet orchestra for a reason, to be in the pit so people wouldn’t be watching her like they used to. She could still play well enough to have gotten the job, and that would have to be enough for now. Jaina took a deep breath, trying to steel herself, and stepped in. 

The familiar sound of tuning and free practice washed over her like a balm, and slowly, the tension in her shoulders released. It was too dissonant to have a particular color, but it was warm regardless. She sat down, unpacked, and started to warm up, wincing at the tone of her new violin. It wasn’t that it was  _ bad _ , but its timbre had an unfamiliar edge to it, and Jaina struggled to rein it in. Her old violin had been an extension of herself, leylight where this one was iron. Especially for Quel’dorei music, she thought, which always tended to err on the more delicate and complex side of things. 

What they were rehearsing this season was an exception, actually.  _ Bash’a no Falor Talah _ is wilder than a lot of quel’dorei pieces, considered the definitive work in their ballet repertoire. Jaina had received her predecessor’s copy of the part, and noticed the title hastily scratched out on the front. Elves were a very superstitious people, she thought, and remembered it was considered obscenely bad luck to say the name aloud in Thalassian. Everyone just referred to the ballet with its Common name,  _ Lament of the Highborne _ . The rest of the annotations were indecipherable- she had  _ thought _ she understood Thalassian, but she could not for the life of her discern that scrawl. 

She could get to that later- the rehearsal schedule for today was of far more concern. They were starting on act three, no. seven, variation two. The Banshee Variations were some of the most technically difficult pieces for orchestra of all time, and the violin part was especially notorious. A trial by fire indeed. Jaina marked through the part, grimacing at a particularly tricky change she hadn’t quite been able to nail down the way she wanted to when the conductor walked in and suddenly her heart was in her throat. When he started talking, introduced her, had her stand up and bow awkwardly, all she could focus on was the thunder in her ears. Her hands were still shaking slightly as they tuned, and the woman across from her, a shal’dorei cellist covered in flickering tattoos, shot her an encouraging look. 

The conductor- Sunstrider, she remembered, he’d done a couple turns guest conducting in Dalaran, he was competent but very arrogant- put his arms up. Jaina took a deep breath, locked in, and started to play. 

At her best, Jaina could let go while she was playing, really let her mind go blank and trust her body to deliver the music. She was not at her best, and was most definitely conscious the entire time. The piece started in unison, heavy, before the first violins started to split, starting the main theme as an icy whisper that looped around itself before the audience could really make it out. It was complex and became more incorporeal with each iteration, a hundred different shades of purple. Jaina listened as it built and built towards the notorious violin solo, heart hammering in time with the murmuring bass. The meter slowed, warped just slightly as though someone was twisting the orchestra, Sunstrider locked eyes with her, and she began. 

Her violin actually sounded decent with the tone of the piece, and the surprise was almost enough to make her stop, bow stuttering over the strings. Throwing herself back into it, she ghosted through the melody, high and capricious. Jaina was just barely keeping up, fingers flying over the strings as fast as she could get them, hoping people would think some of the accidental slurs when two notes blurred together would be mistaken for a stylistic choice. On some of the more forceful bow changes, she could feel her shoulder start to pop, and she hoped to everything out there that in the quieter moments of the solo it wasn’t audible. Her eyes flicked down. Sixteen bars until the end. It blazed by, the last fiery strain burning out into a final whisper picked up by the flute line. 

Slowly, she took her bow off of the strings and lowered her violin. A couple of counts later, Kael’thas lowered his arms, cuing the orchestra to stop. He smiled at her then, the warmth not quite reaching his eyes, holding an arm out to recognize her. The room filled with the rumbling of a hundred stomping feet, and Jaina smiled softly at the idea that Silvermoon shared at least that musical custom. 

After that, rehearsal wasn’t so bad. They repeated bits and pieces around the variations, but Sunstrider didn’t make her do the full solo again. Jaina was certainly glad for that- She certainly didn’t need any more attention. Following along when Sunstrider only gave directions in rapidfire Thalassian was difficult enough. The odd way the language constructed time made it more of a challenge to place where in the music they were. She’d thought she’d been fluent before this, too. At least the rest of it went quickly.

She was in the middle of introductions with that shal’dorei cellist (Thalia? Alyssra? She hadn’t quite caught it), trying her best to ignore the intermittent buzzing in her shoulder, when she caught a blip of familiar red in her peripheral vision. 

“Jaina?” An entirely unexpected voice called out.

She whipped around so fast her braid landed on the other shoulder. 

Cold dread pooled in her stomach as he barrelled towards her. Rhonin had been one of her best friends in the Dalaran Phil. He was warm and smart and humble in a way trumpets never were, and the only one close to her in age. She hadn’t talked to him in.. well, not exactly four and a half years, but things had certainly trailed off around then. 

He must hate her for that. Tides knew she did. 

“It’s been too long! What are you doing here?” Before she could answer, he swept her into a hug, pulling back when he noticed her flinch, brows knitted. “Are you alright?”

Jaina blinked, taking him in. He’d kept his hair long enough to keep in that dorky bun she used to make fun of, though he’d ditched that attempt at a beard he’d valiantly persisted with. The green sweater he was wearing was obviously handmade, with the amount of missed stitches, but it looked like it was made with love. The past few years had been kind to him, then. 

She gave him a wan smile. “I’m doing fine. I should ask the same of you, though. To be perfectly honest, I’d’ve thought you’d stay in Dalaran.”

He laughed. “Hey, me too, but Vereesa wanted to be closer to home, and I thought being principal might be a nice change.”

Jaina snorted. Of course he’d think that. “Wait, you finally asked Vereesa out?” Rhonin had spent  _ years  _ making eyes at the harpist from across rehearsal, somehow failing to notice that she was shooting the same looks back at him. Jaina couldn’t even count the number of hours he’d spent pining over the elf when he and Jaina would split a bottle of Dalaran Reserve. Not enough, for  _ how _ she missed it _ .  _

“Oh, he did a little more than that, I’m afraid.” Vereesa walked up from behind them, slinging an arm around Rhonin’s waist, grinning when Jaina’s eyes flicked down to the ring on her finger, to the matching one on Rhonin’s left hand.

Jaina clapped a hand over her mouth. “Light, congratulations! When?” She tried her best to ignore the guilt trying to claw its way up out of her stomach. She had missed it. 

“Last year.” Vereesa raised an eyebrow. “We invited you, actually.”

“Oh.” Jaina looked down, lifting a hand to absentmindedly fiddle with a ring that was no longer there. “Must have gotten lost in the mail.” She hadn’t gotten much mail, actually, not since they’d moved to Loaderon. She’d not wanted to change her name, and Arthas had been well and truly mad about it to the point of being petty. She only ever got what had been addressed to Jaina Menethil. He’d told her it was a coincidence.

Rhonin smiled awkwardly. “Well, we were actually planning on eloping until her sisters threw a fit about it. Can’t work for everyone, can it?”

She flinched. There it was again. “I don’t think I would know, Rho. We divorced.”

He blanched. “Ah shit, Jaina, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- Well, Arthas was always-”

Vereesa elbowed him. “Are you alright?” she asked, eyes full of genuine concern.

Jaina sighed, deeper than she’d meant to. “It’s been a trying three weeks. All of the lawyers, and the moving and…. Well. This job kind of fell into place right when I needed it. I really didn’t think I’d be able to find orchestra work, let alone a vacant concertmaster position in the middle of the season.” She paused, considering. “I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but that doesn’t quite add up, actually. Do either of you know what happened to the old one?”

They shot a knowing look at each other. “He quit,” Rhonin began. “Found a job with the Silvermoon Royal Symphony, as a second violin actually, major downgrade, but you know how these things go.”

Vereesa rolled her eyes. “She’s working here, she deserves to know the truth.” She leaned in conspiratorially, placing a hand on Jaina’s forearm. “He was tired of being screamed at, actually.”

“What?” Jaina knew there had to have been some sort of skeleton in the closet for her to land this job when she did, but that was some cause for alarm. She didn’t take well to that sort of thing, not anymore.

Rhonin swallowed. “The company prima can be a bit temperamental. Has a certain way of doing things, and can-”

“She’s a heinous bitch who knows enough about music to blame the concertmaster instead of the conductor but not enough to know that we can’t read her mind to perform the wildly off-book fluctuations in tempo she likes.” There was some level of amusement in the elf’s voice, but her ears were flat against her head. 

“Babe, at least let her ease into it a little.” Rhonin huffed, but he didn’t deny it either.

Jaina swallowed. Didn’t exactly bode well, but a paycheck was a paycheck. “It’s not like there weren’t people doing worse back in Dalaran,” she said. “Remember how Kalec would always be doing jazz runs whenever he was bored?””

“Yeah, he definitely should have gotten fired for that, huh?” Vereesa wrinkled her nose.

Rhonin swung an arm around his wife’s shoulders, mimicking her expression.“How did he even get in? I’ve heard better trombonists playing on street corners.”

Vereesa’s ears shot up.“Oh, I actually know this one, it’s pure nepotism. His dad’s big in Wyrmrest, and they’re still huge sponsors, so....”

“Tides, that explains a lot” Jaina had forgotten how easy it was to laugh with Rhonin. It felt nice, she thought

Rhonin raised an eyebrow.“Oh, is Vereesa  _ Windrunner  _ of the Silvermoon Royal Ballet Company going to talk about nepotism?”

She punched him in the arm playfully. “Hey, the  _ orchestra  _ does blind auditions, so I’m well within my rights.”

Jaina frowned, was about to ask if Vereesa had some sort of connection to the company when something else floated to the forefront of her mind. “You kept your name.” 

“Belore, his last name was  _ Redhair _ , he took mine.”

Something hollow sunk through Jaina’s chest, and whatever she’d been about to say died in her throat.

For a moment, none of them said anything. Then Rhonin, persistent as she’d remembered, cleared his throat. “Why’re you on the sloop, anyways? Where’s your baby?”

For a second, she’d forgotten the old nickname for her second violin. The sloop, because it was old and shitty and Kul Tiran. “Desperate times?” Jaina smiled weakly. 

Vereesa looked down at Jaina’s hands, frowning when she noticed them shaking slightly. “Hey, are you free tonight? Rhonin’s always been talking about you and I’d love to get to know you better. Have a drink at our place?”

Jaina hated pity. But she hated the thought of going back to her shitty apartment with three barely-unpacked boxes in it a little bit more. She nodded, and Rhonin clapped her on the back. “Hey, it’ll be like old times? Has anyone showed you how to use the public transit system in this city yet?”

Jaina blanched and he burst into laughter. Vereesa leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s fucking with you, we’re close enough to walk. Portals are a headache and a half here.” She was mock-whispering and Rhonin pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense.

Jaina walked out with them and allowed herself a small smile. There might be some semblance of a life here for her, and as long as she could get a little bit of peace here and there, she was game.


	2. Chapter 2

Rhonin and Vereesa’s apartment certainly looked more loved-in than hers did, Jaina thought. Books were scattered seemingly everywhere except the bookshelves surrounding the large couch by the fireplace, and little mementos of their lives together popped up everywhere. Her own apartment, with the three boxes, minimal furniture, and spotty heating didn’t have any of those decorations. Neither had their house in Loaderon. Trinkets were very intimate and even more breakable. It wasn’t like she could have left with much of anything personal even if she’d had anything, but tides, she missed living somewhere that felt  _ warm- _

“Ah fuck, the fridge is empty.” Rhonin’s voice calling out from ahead interrupted that particular train of thought, and she was thankful. “We must have finished that wine yesterday.”

Vereesa snorted and flopped down onto the couch. “We?”

“Yes, just like how  _ we _ ate all the cookie dough out of the ice cream last week” Rhonin hustled back into the living room, pulling his coat back on. 

“Well, if you’re headed out, might as well get some more, right baby?”

Rhonin reached down to ruffle her hair. “Only if you leave some of the cookie dough for me.” The warmth in his voice and the softness in his eyes gave Jaina the feeling that Vereesa could definitely get away with eating the toppings out of every pint of ice cream they bought. 

“I’ll be back with some actual refreshments soon, ladies.” Rhonin bowed jokingly and swept out the front door. 

Jaina smiled, and then almost froze when she realized she had no idea what to do. She dropped to the couch, shoulder protesting slightly at the sudden movement. Vereesa smiled, not unkindly. 

“Rhonin talks about you a lot, you know. Missed you terribly.” Jaina was sure she was just being paranoid, but there was a note of questioning there. Why she’d abandoned her whole life and career and the people she loved. Guilt bubbled up, hot behind her eyes, and she clenched her jaw. She’d missed him terribly too.

“I’m sure not as much as he used to talk about you,” Jaina said breezily, hoping her face was a decent enough mask. “He said once when we were doing shots after that Medivh suite concert that you had eyes like stars and he wanted to drown in them. I think he may have been crying?”

Vereesa’s jaw dropped in genuine delight. “Belore, that is the corniest thing I’ve ever heard! Not exactly surprising though, he’s always been…”

“A colossal dork?”

Vereesa smiled dreamily.. “Exactly.”

“I’m kind of surprised he ever got it in him to ask you out. The last I’d heard was that time he ran into you at that coffee shop across the way and dropped his cup when you made eye contact with him.” At that point, Jaina had been starting to get annoyed with the pining, but he’d pointed out she didn’t have any ground to stand on when every third word out of her mouth was Arthas. 

“Well, it’s actually a funny story,” Vereesa began, and launched into a long-winded explanation involving getting stuck under the mistletoe at the annual post-Winter Veil concert party, thinking the other one was too drunk to remember, and then running into each other again trying to buy the last banana muffin at that coffee shop, which turned into them splitting it, and honestly after that Jaina lost track. 

Now that they were on slightly smoother waters, Jaina found it was both easy and fun to reminisce about living in Dalaran and joke around with Vereesa. She was kind and funny and obviously cared about Rhonin as much as he cared about her, and her happiness was infectious. 

Her face lit up. “Actually, I think we have a bit of that Dalaran fadeleaf tea if you’d like any. Rhonin always said you liked your caffeine.”

Jaina smiled. She hadn’t had it in years, and it was almost as good as the tea back home. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

Vereesa sped off to the kitchen, insisting Jaina stay on the couch where it was comfortable. After a few minutes, she picked up a book on Dwarven musical notation off the coffee table and started to rifle through it absentmindedly. 

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Jaina turned around to ask Rhonin what he’d managed to find, but the sound of boots on the floor was heavier than anything he’d wear. Standing in the doorway, looking about as confused as she was, was another elf.

“Who are you?” She shook her golden-blonde hair out of its bun, not breaking eye contact. She had the same button nose and high cheekbones as Vereesa, and absolutely none of the same warmth in her hazel eyes. 

“I..what? Who are  _ you _ ?” Jaina was flustered, switching to her native common unthinkingly. Admittedly, she was just getting used to normal friendly conversation again, let alone terribly pretty elves kicking down the door and demanding to know her identity. 

“Hell-o? Do you not understand Thalassian? No?” Before Jaina could tell her that she in fact did, she walked further into the apartment, leaning down the hallway Vereesa had disappeared into. 

It was late fall in Quel’thalas, and the sheer pink tights she was wearing would no nothing to protect against the wind. Tides, she must be cold. Jaina flushed a little at the thought.

“Little Moon, I think we’ve collected enough stray humans for a while, haven’t we?” She gave Jaina another look, appraising. “Prettier than the last one, though. Are you going to marry this one, too?” She continued to kick off her boots, her huge black sweater sliding off of a shoulder as she did so. 

Thankfully Vereesa chose that moment to come back in, handing Jaina a steaming mug of tea. “Always a pleasure when you invite yourself over, Sylvanas.” 

Sylvanas nodded. “I agree.” 

Vereesa rolled her eyes, gathering her pale hair into a ponytail. “Sylvanas, this is Jaina. She’s one of Rhonin’s old friends from work. Jaina, this is my sister.” Her common was flawless, and even with her accent it sounded almost lyrical. 

She could have sworn Vereesa had a brother who’d showed up to a Philharmonic concert once back in Dalaran, but certainly nothing about a sister. Sylvanas carried herself like she was offended at even needing an introduction, straight back and squared shoulders at odds with the lopsided smirk on her face. 

She tilted her head slightly, looking at Jaina closely. “When did you dislocate your shoulder?”

Jaina tensed. “A year ago.” One year, three months, and two and a half weeks. The most common injury for violinists was carpal tunnel, not having to worry about their entire bow shoulder getting knocked out of place. Practicing had been painful for months afterwards, but gritting her teeth was always easier than admitting something had been wrong. She exhaled, tried to loosen her jaw. “How did you know that?”

“What do you mean? It’s obvious how you carry it.” She walked up behind the couch where Jaina was sitting. “Here, watch this.”

Before Jaina could ask what she was doing, Sylvanas reached over and pressed a thumb into a spot just slightly to the right of her shoulder blade. With an audible crunch, it popped, and the faint buzzing that had been bothering her for the past couple of hours stopped. Jaina groaned, stars dancing out of her vision.

Sylvanas smiled, all fangs. “Ooh, she’s angry today, isn’t she?” 

Jaina blinked, dumbfounded. People had always told her she talked to much, but she was actually at a loss for words at the  _ manners  _ on this woman to kick down the door like she owned the place, sweep through like a cocky hurricane, and- She wrinkled her nose. She sounded too much like a Menethil for her liking.

Luckily, the sisters were too absorbed in their bickering to notice. “You take one semester of sports med and you’re going to show off for the rest of your life, hmm?” Vereesa teased.

“It’s good for my job. Besides, I’m not showing off.  _ This  _ would be showing off.” Without breaking eye contact, she sunk into the splits. Vereesa raised an eyebrow and immediately did the same. 

Sylvanas clicked her tongue. “Watch your extension, little moon, it’s gotten worse.”

Jaina looked at the two of them, incredulous. “So is this a normal family activity for you guys, or what?” Something had to run in every family, she thought, and if hers was a long line of sailors, she supposed the Windrunners could be a long line of bizarre smug hot elf acrobats. 

Sylvanas looked up, suddenly indignant. Before she could respond, Vereesa got to her feet and offered an arm. “You could say that, considering pretty much everyone in our family is-

The door flew open again. “Jaina! You wouldn’t believe what they were selling at Murder Row.” Rhonin hefted up a familiar looking box. Their old favorite- Kul Tiran port cheap enough to buy by the boxful, and strong enough to-

Jaina laughed wearily. “Rhonin, you know that stuff is blackout juice.”

He puffed out his chest. “Nonsense! I have a strong constitution and I am  _ excellent  _ at alcohol math.”

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow. “Bala’dash, Rhonin.” She flopped onto the couch rather dramatically, landing upside-down. “I don’t suppose you could set the table? It’s been a day.” 

Vereesa frowned.“We weren’t cooking.” Sylvanas lifted her head up from where it was hanging and looked at her with the expression of a kicked puppy.

She rolled her eyes, but her expression softened. “Anar’alah, stop  _ sulking _ . Do you want some ice for your ankles while you’re here?”

Sylvanas murmured her assent, switching back to Thalassian. Jaina continued to sit in silence, sipping her tea. She’d never had the chance to communicate to Vereesa’s sister than she could actually understand Thalassian, but then again, she thought, she could only ever do that once. 

Apparently, it was against elven cultural sensibilities to knock because for the third time in ten minutes, someone burst through the door unannounced. Another elf, Jaina thought, but he looked different from the rest of them- taller, a little stockier, and his ears were closer to Jaina’s in shape. 

Faster than Jaina could ever dream of moving, Sylvanas flipped over, vaulted over the couch, and greeted him with a crushing hug, all with an annoying amount of grace. “Arator! It’s been much too long.”

He laughed, trying to straighten his glasses. “Always a pleasure, auntie.”

Her ears flew up when she noticed the bag in his hands. “Is that-”

“Takeout from that pandaren place Rhonin likes. Got a double order of pork buns in case you’d be here.”

Sylvanas whooped. “Kim’jael, you are the only person in this family for whom I hold any respect.”

Jaina looked over at Vereesa, who’d come back in with a bag of ice. “Did she just call him a-”

“Little rat? She thought it was funny that I could only pronounce the middle part of my name as an infant, and Thalassian is my second language, so by the time I could catch it, it was too far gone.” He smiled, extending his hand. “I’m Arator.” He flicked a hand back at the two sisters. “Nephew.”

He walked over to Rhonin, clapping him on the back. “Oh, this looks interesting,” he said, taking the box. 

Vereesa snatched it out of his hands. “Hey! You’re not thirty yet, you can’t drink that”

“Well, I’m only half an elf, so technically the drinking age should be fifteen for me.” That would explain the difference in appearance, Jaina reasoned. 

Rhonin turned to Jaina and held his hands up victoriously. “See? Alcohol math!”

Jaina frowned. “Wait, the drinking age here is  _ thirty? _ I know elves age slower, but I wouldn’t clear that.”

The kitchen went oddly silent at that. With the bit of silver in her hair and the bags under her eyes, Jaina was starting to get used to people assuming she was older than she actually was. She thought bitterly that wonderful thing about being a prodigy was that things tended to go to shit so much earlier than her peers, too.

Rhonin nodded. “Oh yeah, you’re like twenty-eight, huh?”

Jaina gave him a thin smile. “Twenty-five.” 

“Well I, for one, think giving alcohol to infants is funny,” Sylvanas said, pressing a glass into her hand and winking. Jaina certainly  _ felt  _ older than an infant, but to a room full of mostly elves, 25 wouldn’t seem like much more than that.

Vereesa started pulling out plates. “If we’re doing takeout, can we at least eat like civilized people?”

Dinner was lovely, if overwhelming. Rhonin was clearly making a conscious effort to keep her involved in the conversation, as Arator slid pork buns across to her when Sylvanas wasn’t looking. Which was most of the time, considering how busy she was complaining about... whatever it was that she did, drifting in and out of Thalassian and snapping back to common whenever she looked across the table and remembered Jaina was there. She swivelled around in her chair to tell Arator a joke and looked down at her half-empty plate.

Her ears pinned back suspiciously. “Kim’jael, do you have any idea what happened to my pork buns?” Jaina swallowed the last of them before she could make eye contact.

Arator smiled sweetly. “I’m still a vegetarian, auntie. Try some of the wine, it’s good.”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes at her nephew, and then took a rather large swig of the port. Immediately, she wrinkled her nose and her ears literally dropped in disgust. Jaina snorted.

Sylvanas turned to her slowly.“So, what is this swill supposed to be again?”

Jaina smiled. “Kul Tiran port. It’s kind of shit, but it’s kind of supposed to be. The expensive stuff’s alright though.” Nothing said “a little piece of home” like shitty cheap alcohol if you were from Kul Tiras. 

Sylvanas leaned forward, putting her hands under her chin. “Wait, like the pirate island?”

“Trading’s been above board for centuries now, but sure, the pirate island.” Her mother in particular would take offense when people mentioned that Kul Tiras was founded by pirates. She’d grumble about how she didn’t spend her entire life running a perfectly legitimate business for mainlanders to think their lot were all freebooters. Jaina wondered who was running the business now. 

“You don’t have much of an accent, though.” Arator tilted his head curiously. 

Rhonin chuckled. “Ah, but she did. You should’ve seen her, seventeen and a damn good violinist but she’d open her mouth and start swearing like a sailor if you talked to her outside of rehearsal.” 

Vereesa looked at her strangely. “You must have dropped it quickly, then.” Jaina didn’t remember if Vereesa was there when she’d started, but she certainly wouldn’t have known her well enough to talk if she was. 

“It was...unbecoming.” Arthas had always said that, anyway. She got rid of her accent very quickly, and her father moaned about how Dalaran was changing his little girl. 

“Well, Arator has his goofy little Loardie accent jump out sometimes, and it’s...endearing.” Sylvanas nodded sagely, as though this was clearly the final word in the conversation. 

“Well then, maybe I should start talking like a pirate at rehearsal, again, if it’s so precious to you.”

The four of them all started talking to agree that yes, she should definitely do that during rehearsal and also forever. Jaina rolled her eyes and swiped another pork bun from Sylvanas’ plate, and the elf dropped her jaw and pressed a hand to her chest in faux-shock. “Rhonin’s friend-”

“Jaina,” she supplied.

“Rhonin’s friend, I swear by the sun the  _ manners  _ of humans are going to send me to my grave! A guest, stealing  _ my  _ pork buns-”

“I mean, technically,  _ I _ bought them,” Arator said helpfully.

“In  _ my  _ h-”

Vereesa rolled her eyes “This isn’t your house either, Lady moon.” 

Sylvanas snatched the pork bun back and cut it in half. “Fine, Jaina, I will be so kind as to split this with you. 

Jaina snorted, unable to tell if all of her posturing was serious. “Wow, I appreciate the gesture.”

She laughed, tossed her hair back. “Anytime.” Vereesa squinted at the gesture, but they were good pork buns and it wasn’t like Jaina was about to turn that down. 

Arator stood up. “Speaking of, I have a project due in two days, so this is where I leave you.”

Jaina nodded, stood up as well. “I should probably be going as well, then. Thank you so much for having me.” 

“Oh I can walk you to your car, if you want,” Rhonin offered. Jaina smiled and accepted. 

…

Silvermoon at night was different than any city Jaina had ever been in. Somehow it was simultaneously quiet and lively, and every door they passed seemed to be filled with some quiet celebration or another. The cold air felt nice on her skin, and if she took a deep enough breath, she could smell cinnamon drifting from the corner bakery by the theater.

Rhonin had an arm around her shoulders as they walked, and even in the new city it was easy to pretend like things had just gone back to the way they were. “Sorry if that was a little crazy back there.”

“You sure married into some family, huh?”

“It’s insane sometimes, but I really wouldn’t trade it for the world. Besides, that was definitely some of their best behavior.”

Jaina raised an eyebrow. 

Rhonin laughed, long and loud. “Yes, actually! I’ve never seen Sylvanas share anything in her life and Arator’s usually knitting at the table.”

Jaina pinched the fabric of his sweater by his shoulder. “Is that his then?”

“First one he ever made, when Vereesa and I had just started dating. It’s a little lumpy, but y’know, you have to support the effort, and he’s always so happy when I wear it.” Rhonin’s entire face lit up as he talked, and Jaina thought his eyes looked a little misty.

Rhonin, whether he knew it or not, had stumbled into the kind of warm and happy life Jaina had always dreamed of, the one she thought she was marrying into. “I’m so glad you’re happy, Rho.”

He smiled indulgently. “And I’m glad you came back, Baby J.”

She wrinkled her nose. “We are  _ not  _ bringing that nickname back, don’t even think about it.”

“Seriously, though. I was worried about you for a long time.”

That sunk through her chest, heavy, and she didn’t really know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“And I know it’s not any of my business, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“I know.” They walked in silence for a few minutes after that, watching the way the lights reflected off of the paving stones. “I never wanted to disappear on you like that,” Jaina started. “It all just happened so fast until I was alone out in Loaderon except for him.”

“Fuck, Jaina.” He hugged her tighter. “I’m really glad you’re here now.”

She hummed her agreement and walked into the parking lot. “Thanks for dinner, Rhonin.” It was crazy and confusing and kind of exactly what she needed to end her first week in the Silvermoon.

He smiled. “Come by anytime. You’re family.”

Her apartment was still dingy and the traffic on the drive home was still awful, but Jaina felt the warmth of that sentence for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was definitely going to finish the chapter of the other one that I forget what its called first (its finals forgive me), but my brain kept going hrngh Windrunner family dinner so this one came out done first. here sylvanas u get my annoying habit of stretching everywhere and Jaina gets my hypermobile right shoulder. fun.

**Author's Note:**

> fun music fact! one time I dislocated my jaw trying to hit a high c in rehearsal because I wasn't good enough to actually hit it without cheating. I did get that note though that's called professionalism.


End file.
